Saturday, 22 October 2016

His Royal Highness,The Tamil Tiger - FICTION

February 9th, 2006 arrived without fanfare, without
celebration. Yet for a few people, the date for paying VasanthaValautham’s
fine became significant in ways they never dreamed possible.

Haran Kandiah sat
on the narrow bench that lay within the shadow of an ironwood tree, the
Ministry of Political Affairs before him. He wanted to see his sister again.

He coughed once and
then craned his neck to look down the road, hoping to see his niece’s rented
car approaching from Colombo,
the capital of Sri Lanka.
Dr.MaithilyRooban
had arrived in Sri Lanka
from Australia
the previous day, so Haran
expected her along soon.

Squad leader Paari and her troops marched by and the one named Tolli ran over to him
smiling widely. “Good morning, sir! We know that you are here to take your sister
home today! She’s fine and expecting your arrival eagerly.” Her smile got even
wider, and Haran
almost thought it looked a bit sardonic. “She is so happy that she is singing cinema
songs! Well, good bye, sir!” She threw one more mocking smile his way and
dashed off to rejoin her squad.

Haran didn’t know what to make of it.
On one hand, he was glad that his sister was alive, but the sarcasm that poured
forth from the female Tamil Tiger put him in a nervous state.

When Dr.Maithily
arrived, the pair of them walked to the Ministry of Political Affairs. The
Smiling Minister was waiting for them with his patent smile and beady eyes that
scrutinized them minutely. “Haran Kandiah and Dr.Maithily,
please come in and take a seat.”

Haran did, but felt uncomfortable under
the unblinking gaze of Parri’s squad standing behind the Minister.

“We’ve come to pay
the fine for VasanthaValautham,” Haran’s niece announced. “Here are two
certified checks totaling sixteen million rupees.”

The Minister took
the checks and scrutinized them for an agonizingly long time. “These seem to be
in order,” he pronounced.

“Honorable
Minister,” Maithily put in, “I just want to tell you that I am an ardent
supporter of the Tamil Tigers. I contribute $300 US dollars every month and I always
participate in all rallies and functions in Sydney.”

The Minister nodded
without losing his smile. “Yes, Madam, we know this. You do your duty well, and
we are indebted to you and the rest of the Tamil Diaspora. I pray that you will
instruct your mother to follow a similar course.” The Smiling Minister turned
to regard Paari. “Fetch Madam Vasnatha.
You know what to do.”

“Yes sir!”

Paari left with her
squad.

The Minister
motioned towards the door. “You may wait outside. Squad Leader Paari will bring
her to you.”

Four hours later,
the worried pair was still waiting. They alternately paced around and sat on
the narrow bench beneath the ironwood tree. Finally, Maithily threw her hands
in the air. “Mama! What is the delay?”

“Maybe they have a
long way to go to get her,” Haran
answered softly, his gaze resting on some distant point.

His niece turned to
regard him curiously. “Mama, you look depressed. Is everything okay? Is auntie
okay?”

“She’s fine,” he
assured her. “She’s always looking out for me like I was a little child. She is
such a wonderful, amazing woman.” He sighed and the little speech only created
more confusion for his niece who didn’t know why he needed to say all that.

“You’re hiding
something from me,” she accused him softly. She moved near and placed a hand on
his arm. “Tell me what it is.”

“There is nothing.
My sister is coming home. Why should I be depressed? Look at me. I’m as happy
as a dancing peacock.”

Maithily looked
doubtful, but in the face of her mother’s impending return, she let the matter
drop.

Meanwhile, Paari’s
squad of soldiers had reached the prison and drug the filthy and stinking
Principal from her cell. They propped the woman up next to the well and began
dumping buckets of water over her head—her first bath since her arrival. One of
the female soldiers lathered shampoo into her matted and grimy hair, and
another began applying soap to the rest of her naked body. Paari cut the
Principal’s fingernails, and still another soldier went to look for some new
clothing to put on the emaciated Principal.

After they
finished, Paari stood back and looked over her handiwork. She nodded. “Good
enough. Get her dressed.”

With a new set of
clothes, washed hair and body, Vasantha was
practically tossed into a new life.

They took the
Principal to a waiting jeep where Paari sprayed jasmine perfume all over the
silk sari and blouse. “Got to get you prettied up for your brother and
daughter,” she said with a wink.

Back at the
Ministry of Political Affairs, Haran
had had enough. “Something went wrong,” he growled. “I suspect foul play.”

Maithily gasped and
shook her head. “Don’t even think of such things!” she scolded.

“You can’t trust
the Tamil Tigers!”

“They’re not better
than the filthy paramilitary soldiers—traitors all of them!”

“You are part of
the Tamil Dispora” Haran
argued. “You don’t know what is really going on around here. Your mother’s
Vice-Principal, Piriya Shan, was abducted by the Tamil Tigers. No one even
knows where she is now…or even if she is alive.” He decided not to tell her of
the rumors of the body found in a lagoon.

The argument came
to an abrupt end when a Pajero jeep pulled up about a hundred meters away.
Maithily grabbed her uncle’s arm. “Mama! Look there!”

Haran squinted and tried not to cough.
“Yes, it’s your mother.”

“Why are all the
soldiers standing around her?”

“I don’t know.” Haran started to move
towards the jeep then. He needed to get to his sister. He needed to see that
she was okay.

“Wait,” Maithily
called after him. “It’s not mom. That is someone else. That woman has milk
white hair. Mom’s hair is black, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he
confirmed, staring towards the jeep.

Indeed, the woman
looked nothing like his sister. This woman was skinny, where his sister was a
sturdy woman—overweight even. The soldiers grabbed the woman’s arms and helped
her to walk as they drew near to the waiting pair.

“Here is your
mother,” Paari announced when they got close enough.

“My mother?”
Maithily asked uncertainly.

“Yes. This is her.”

Maithily’s face
darkened with anger. “What trick is this? Where is my mother! I demand you
bring my mother to me right now!”

“Madam Doctor, this is your mother!”

Haran and Maithily forced themselves to
look closer at the woman held between the two female soldiers. Slowly, Haran’s niece approached
the skeleton of a woman, trying to rectify the sight of this shattered human
being in expensive clothes to the vibrant image she had of her mother.
Recognition flooded her mind all at once.

This was her
mother.

“Mother,” she
breathed, moving very close and reaching out to touch the fragile creature
before her. The broken woman didn’t even react to the touch. “Mother? Mother!”
she began to wail brokenly, flinging herself upon her mother, trying to gather
her in and protect her. She wailed and screamed her anger, and a flock of
parrots, startled by the sudden noises, scattered from the trees.

Haran moved closer to try to comfort
his niece and got a really good look at his spiritless sister. “Sister,” he
called. “It’s Haran,
your brother. Talk to me. Talk to us, please.” His begging fell on deaf ears.

Haran joined his niece and together
their shrill cries of anguish rent the air.

The squad of
soldiers, their work finished, left, congratulating themselves on a job well
done.

Maithily had
brought two drivers with her in the rented van. These two men helped to move
the former Principal into the van and made her as comfortable as possible. Haran waved goodbye to
his sister, tears still streaming down his face.

“Mama,” his niece
called, her voice hoarse from crying. “Come with me to Australia.
Things are too bad here.”

“You can’t take
both me and your Auntie,” he said softly, shaking his head. “We’ll need to stay
here. Don’t worry about us. Everything will be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

He hesitated.
“Please take care of my sister and let her know that I love her very much.”

“I will,” she
promised.

Haran watched them drive away. It was
the last time he ever saw either of them again.

When Haran Kandiah
arrived home later that evening, he carried a shopping bag in one hand. His
wife playfully snuck a peek inside and stopped when she saw its contents,
confusion filling her eyes.

“Why do you have a
roll of nylon rope?” Malar asked.

“It’s a gift for Lieutenant Kannady,” he
answered seriously. “He will be coming tomorrow morning at 5:30 to collect the taxes.” He smiled. “I plan
to tie him to the mango tree in the front yard.”

Malar frowned, and
wrung her hands. “Don’t joke like that. Did you ask Maithily about helping with
the taxes?”

“Of course I did,”
he lied. Haran
knew perfectly well that his niece had beggared herself to scrape up the rest
of the money to free her mother. Even if she had the money, it couldn’t
possibly get to them in time. “She’ll send us the full amount as soon as she
reaches Sydney.”

“That’s a relief,”
she said, and indeed a great weight seemed to lift off of his wife’s shoulders.
“And the Lieutenant will wait until the money gets here?”

Haran smiled at that, glad she could
find a bit of peace. “Did you fix supper?”

“Yes! I made your
favorite dish—stringhoppers and sothy.”

They began having
their meal happily. They talked of old times, reminisced about their dreams and
plans for the future, and in general, just loved being around each other.

Soon enough, it was
time for bed and his dear, sweet wife fell into a deep, peaceful sleep almost
immediately. Her snores sounded like music to his ears.

He got up without
disturbing her and stared down at her for a long time, tears once again pouring
down his checks and blurring his vision. His heart ached and felt like it would
burst at any moment.

Leaving home, he
went down to the nearby temple and stood at the entrance for some time, sobbing
and praying. He picked up jasmine flowers that worshipers had dropped on the
steps and returned home, placing the fragrant flowers around the sleeping form
of his wife. He stood there for another long time, praying for her, and praying
for himself—but mostly for her.

Taking a deep
breath, his eyes firming in determination, he went into the kitchen and
retrieved a long knife. He returned to his wife, kissed her gently on the
forehead for the last time, and aimed the knife at the soft skin around his wife’s
neck.

That part of the
job finished, he hurriedly grabbed the nylon rope from the bag and went out
onto the veranda, a stool in hand.
Throwing the rope over a sturdy branch, he tied it off to just the right
height. Climbing onto his stool, he put his neck in the noose and pulled it
tight against his adam’s-apple. Closing his eyes, he whispered one final prayer
and then kicked the stool out from underneath him.

At 5:30 a.m. sharp on February 10th, 2006, Lieutenant Kannady opened
Haran Kandiah’s gate and let himself into the compound. He came prepared to
collect either the full amount in taxes or to take Haran into custody. He really didn’t care
which. Either would satisfy him.

One of the three
soldiers flanking him spotted the hanging body first and cried out, pointing.
Kannady came to an abrupt halt as he looked at the blackened and bloated face
of Haran. Anger
coursed through his veins, making his face turn red. “You devilish brute!” he
yelled, shaking his fist at the uncaring body. “You think you have cheated me?
I’ll get the tax money out of your wife even if I have to skin her and sell her
stinking hide to get it!”

Kannady rushed into
the house thinking to catch Malar before she could flee the house, but when he
entered the bedroom he found that Haran
had cheated him yet again. There, in a large pool of blood, lay Malar’s body,
her throat cut cleanly. A small smile on her still face, mocked the Tamil
Tiger’s impotent wrath.

LiutenantKannady
stepped outside again and stared at the hanging body of Haran Kandiah. He
ground his teeth together and his nostrils flared. He hated the fact that this
man had cheated him in death. “It’s a disgrace,” he muttered. His fingers
twitched as he thought of putting a bullet in the hanging corpse.

“Sir, Perhaps it would be
better if I read it to you,” she replied. Kannady could hear the anger in her
voice.

“Fine.”

“Vembady Girls’ College student, Mehala the Head Prefect, and a history teacher, KavithaKarunanithy,
who were both involved in the uprising against the Minister of Political
Affairs—presumed to have drowned in the Palk Strait—are
alive. The Indian Navy claims to have rescued a small boat struggling through
dangerous waves and a heavy north-east monsoon wind. The boat was being pursued
by the Tamil Tigers’ Navy, the Indian Navy reported, and the Tamil Tigers could
only watch as Indian sailors rescued the small crew. Both women have been taken
to one of the refugee camps in Tamil Nadu, a southern Indian state.”

“This is another
disgrace,” Kannady complained, eyeing the cloudy sky and the many crows cawing gravely
up in the air flying round the mango tree.

Just then the northeast monsoon
torrential downpour started soaking him. Irritated all the more, he stomped his way out of the compound and to his jeep where
his subordinates already huddled inside to avoid the rain.

Lieutenant
Kannady
just didn’t care.

About
that same time, ProfessorRajaguru, looked out the large
window of his luxurious hotel room. He studied the City of Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka,
absently. A good portion of the ornate style window was taken up with the
endless Indian Ocean. A tropical morning coolbreeze from the open doors soothed his mind as he prepared to
take his leave. He would have gone to Malaysia the previous week, had he paid
the amount he promised to the paramilitary group. He stayed until he got the necessary
money to settle their due. He moved into the guest room.

“Sir,
taxi is ready to go to the airport. Shall I take the suit cases down?” Theroom
attendant enquired submissively. ProfessorRajaguru nodded; he turned his
head and smiled at the paramilitary group leader and his subordinates waiting
there. They were the persons, wearing dark clothes and masks, kidnapped Sendhoory
from SivathalamAvarankal’s celebrated house to
take her to Colmbo via PalayAirport.

Rajaguru took out a
briefcase and handed it over to the grizzled, hard featured leader of the paramilitary
group. “Six million rupees, as agreed—in cash. Sorry for the delay. I got it
last night.” Rajaguru declared.

The black clad solider
cracked the case and took a lengthy look inside. “This completes our
agreement,” he said satisfied.

“Thank you,” Rajaguru
said sincerely. “My daughter would be dead or worse now if you hadn’t rescued
her.”

The man nodded shortly in
agreement.

Sendhoory, wearing a
strawberry pink salwar kameez dress and a brown hand bag hanging over one
shoulder, stepped past her father and looked at the group leader in the eye.
“Yes, thank you.” Her golden snowflake earrings caught the light just right
making it look like her ears sparkled.

The group leaderstudied her, looking at her two long braids draped down the
front of her dress, and the diamond studded pendant necklace, and saluted the
girl. He admired this girl, not for her riches, but for her bravery in standing
up to the Tamil Tigers at her school—The Vembady Girls’ College. “I pride
myself on your fighting against the globe’s deadliest terrorist, His Royal Highness,
the Tamil Tiger. Go with God,” he said. “Thank you, leader.I will ever be grateful to you. I'm
lost for words right about now.” Turning, the group leader left the room with
his team.

Sendhoory looked at her
father and flashed him a dazzling smile. “I am ready to go to Malaysia,
father.”

With those words, the
History Teacher’s brightest student, picked up her doll, Homer the stuffed
beagle dog, and stepped forth into freedom.

End

APPENDIX

GLOSSARY

CFA Cease Fire Agreement, 2002.

cadjan
braided leaf of coconut used for thatching roofs and cover fences to
obstruct

people peeping into house compounds

Class Low class and High class. Jaffna
society is divided into low caste and high

caste. Instead of the term caste, class is used in the novel.

College Schools that are famous and have classes up to Year 13 that prepare
students

to enter universities. Colleges in Jaffna cannot be compared to colleges in the

UK or the USA

DelhiJust before the 1987 Indo-Sri Lanka Agreement was signed, the future
His Royal Highness, the Tamil Tiger was taken to Delhi, the capital of India to get
his approval. He refused to accept it. So he was detained in the same hotel
where he stayed for weeks. At that time he vowed to take revenge upon the Indian Prime Minister RajivGandhi.

Ponku Tamil – This is an annual celebration introduced by the Tamil Tigers in
order

to
promote their organization’s and their leader’s prestige.

pottuIt is a dot of red/black/violet/tan color applied in the center of the
forehead close to the upper part of the nose. Married ladies apply two violet
pottus one between the eyebrows on the forehead and the other up on the edge of
hair on head.

salwar kameez: It is a unisex dress similar in manner to
shirt and pants worn by westerners.

Sangam: Sangam means
assembly that was the cause for the rise of numerous